Common
by marauderX
Summary: Marielle just wants to be treated like a regular girl. Years in Hogwarts left her unprepared for the responsibilities of her position. When Westley, a mechanic in the castle, unknowingly offers her an escape from her real life, she takes it, without fully realizing the lies it would take to keep up the friendship with this common muggle boy.


I glanced around a corner, spying three guards at attention near a large oak door. They were all in uniform – which meant both a sword and a gun holstered at their waist – and seemed even more alert than usual.

Blast! I thought. This isn't going to make sneaking out any easier.

Reaching to the base of my neck, I found the pale brown hood of my cloak and draped it over my head, careful to obscure my easily recognizable face. Considering the guards were ordered not to let me out of the castle, I doubted that my attempt to walk right past them and leave would not go so well.

I was happy that I had thought of this possibility and had put on a dress almost identical to the one that the kitchen maids wore. With the brown cloak – unlike any of my brightly coloured ones – I would not be noticed. Taking a deep breath a readying myself, I turned around the corner and headed down the corridor in the direction of the guards.

My shoes whispered against the stone floor as did the plain dress, and I could hear the clank of the guards' swords against the stone walls as they stood up straighter. I could feel their assessing eyes through the cloak and held my breath in hopes that they would ignore me. As I got closer and closer to them, I saw the small corridor that branched off from the one that I was in; originally it was built for people who did not wish to be noticed, but I had taken the liberty of claiming it for my own – at least in my mind.

As soon as I reached this small corridor, I swiftly turned into it, not bothered by the dimly lit cobbled floors or the damp smell that usually accompanied only the lowest floors of the castle. To be free, sacrifices had to be made. A shiver ran down my spine as I stepped into a cold puddle of what I would assume to be water that easily seeped through the thin fabric of my flat shoes. How I wished to have worn galoshes, but kitchen maids had no need for such a thing.

My skirts swished almost silently through the small corridor, though the almost inaudible sound still managed to drown out my breathing – or lack thereof. Though I had manoeuvered around this passageway and many of its sister corridors over the past few weeks, I still couldn't shake the feeling of another presence, be it animal or human.

I could just barely make out the light at the end of the passageway that radiated from the bright lights in the kitchen, but almost as soon as I saw it, an unusual noise made the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. Light footsteps were echoing behind me and a strange but familiar noise was accompanying them. It was like nails on a chalkboard yet not quite as irksome.

I kept walking, sure that whoever it was would either dismiss a kitchen maid or ask for why I wasn't working – a scenario I had a plausible story for. But as the footsteps neared I felt a sense of dread in my stomach; one that shouldn't have been ignored.

I suddenly felt a large hand wrap around my upper arm and yank me around so that I was pressed between the large body of a tall man and the damp stone wall. I quickly noticed the uniform and then the sword at his side. So that was the strangely familiar noise was: a sword dragging along a stone wall. But then I noticed with dismay that the normally holstered gun of this guard was not where it should be.

Instead, the barrel of it was hovering right near my right temple as the man pressed against me kept a firm grasp of my left arm. Adrenaline rushed through me and I tried to squirm away but the guard just laughed.

"Where do you think you're going, little kitchen girl? Don't suppose you realize the danger you're in right now, do you?"

His voice was low and scary, if a voice could be such a thing. In the dim light of the corridor I could just barely make out scruff along his jaw and a line of stars on his left lapel, five in total. So he was not only a guard, but a captain and a member of the Elite Royal Guard at that.

"Now sweetheart," he growled, lowering his face until I could feel his hot breath on my cheek, "just don't scream or my finger just might pull this trigger, do you understand?"

I nodded and relaxed just enough for him to assure himself that I wouldn't run and that he could do with leaving me a little space, but as soon as he did I squirmed past him and tried to dash away towards the kitchen. Unfortunately he quickly grabbed my arm again and pulled me around.

"Stop," I panted, tears streaming down my face. I couldn't remembered when I had started crying but I seemingly couldn't stop. "Please, stop!"

Through the dim light I saw a cold sneer on the man's features and suddenly pain exploded in the right side of my jaw as my head swung to the left, my body not far behind it. A crack resounded in the small corridor as my head collided with the stone wall, and my head began to pound as blood rushed down my face.

As I saw the man take a step towards me, I quickly reached down and grabbed my wand from the ankle holster I had left it in. In the panic of the attack I had forgotten what my best defense mechanism was. I brandished the 11 and a half inch willow wand as the man stopped, apparently trying to decide whether or not what I was pointing at him was dangerous or not in the dim light

"STOP!" I screamed as he took another step forward, clearly thinking that a stick could do nothing to harm him.  
But before I could do anything, a sharp voice was carried through the air.

"Captain Gregson! Fancy meeting you here with another helpless young girl.

A figure catapulted itself over the captain's dark shape and landed in front of me. I stifled a yelp in favour of shuffling away from the new individual as fast as I could.

"I thought," the newcomer continued, "that after last time you had promised to forget your disgusting hobby."

A hearty laugh came from the captain and I shivered. "Westley! I never tire of besting you in a fight. Do you want to see if I can give you three black eyes this time?"

The 'Westley' character only shrugged. "Never knew you were that bad at counting, but let's try."

Then he lunged at the captain and a dull thud came from their grappling figures. I was frozen for a moment before realizing that this was my chance to escape. Shuffling backwards a little more, I kept my wand steady and pointed at the fight in case I needed to hex one or both of them. Satisfied that neither would attack me in the next few seconds, I scrambled up and turned.

Racing down the passageways, I heard thumps, grunts, and cracks from behind me as the two men fought. The light from the kitchens was getting closer and I raced towards it. The smell of baking bread and roasted tomatoes hit me as I stepped into the lavish kitchen, though I didn't stay long. I rushed through the bustling kitchen, making my way to the door that led to the gardens.

As I stumbled through the door and the sun hit me, I heard protests from the people in the kitchens and multiple sounds of metal hitting the floor. I never really was very good at manoeuvering through crowds. Though I never slowed down, I made my way through the gardens and towards a small shed I knew to be filled with gardening tools and soil – the only one who ever used the old shed and its 'ancient' tools was Old Bill Harrison and I had trusted him long ago with my wishes to remain anonymous.

Flinging open the door, I let out a sob and felt tears rush down my face harder than ever before. I slammed the door and turned, taking in everything. The shelf on the opposite end of the shed where Old Bill Harrison's prized flower Avanlea grew in her pot, surrounded by other white roses; the bags of soil lined against each wall, save the one where the door was; the wall of gardening tools to the left; the corkboard filled with photos of plants and Old Bill Harrison with his plants on the right.

Still sobbing, I sat on one of the bags on soil and cried my little heart out. Never had I imagined anything like that ever happening to me. The shock was unbearable and the reality of what would have happened had 'Westley' not shown up set in. He had said 'Captain Gregson.' I knew the man, then.

Chancellor Evans had a small group of Elite Royal Guards assigned to her rooms and I was absolutely certain that one of them was a Captain Gregson. I felt my heart sink as I realized what I would have to do to get this man punished: I would have to testify. It had not been but five minutes since the attack and I felt as though reliving it would surely kill me.

Chancellor Evans would be furious, of course, and demand an investigation into the assault, which would be made public. Or perhaps it would be kept only to the knowledge of those of high-ranking in court. No, to receive as much punishment as possible the scandal would have to be publicised, so that the other victims that Westley had talked about could come forward.

With luck, Captain Gregson wouldn't make it out of prison except possibly in a hearse. I felt a small touch of relief at that and smiled maniacally (although I'm pretty sure it was more of a grimace). It felt strange to wish death on another, but I reasoned that to lock up one monster until death was better than letting him roam around the castle to prey on other young girls, ruining their lives like he almost ruined mine.

I let out a shaky breath. Calming my mind would have to be my top priority. I began taking deep breaths, feeling my rapidly beating heart slow until it was just above normal – or at least what I thought was normal. I'm decidedly not a doctor, nor a nurse, nor a Healer.

Just as I was beginning to feel slightly calmer than moments before, a soft knock came at the door of the shed and I let out a small yelp. My legs shot up and I grasped them as I sat in the fetal position on top of a bag of soil. Another soft knock came at the door and I slowly let my legs down. I stood up stiffly and tiptoed to the shed door.

"Old Bill Harrison?" I whispered as I pressed my right ear against the door.

A murmured chuckle came from the other side. "My name is Westley. But I can go get Mr. Harrison if you wish."

I froze before slowly leaning against the door and sliding down to sit on the ground. "I'm scared," I murmured, feeling the tears rush down my cheeks again.

"I know," Westley whispered from the other side of the door. "But I promise not to hurt you. Will you open this door for me?"

I supressed a sob and nodded. Then, realizing that he couldn't see me, I let out a shaky giggle. "Okay."

I stood up slowly, leaning against the door to support my shaky knees. I was just about to put my hand on the doorknob when I hesitated. I stood there for several moments, silently debating whether or not I should let this boy into the sanctity of the shed.

"I know what you're thinking," Westley said, his voice breaking through the fog of my mind, "but I also know that you need to clean up that wound on your head. I have medical supplies. Just let me in and I can help you."

My hand flew to my head and came away sticky and red. In my panic I hadn't remembered about the gash on my forehead, although now I could see the distinct red trickles of blood on my arm and dress. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door only slightly, but wide enough that this Westley could slip in.

When he did I noticed a shock of black hair against tan skin. As soon as he was completely in the shed, I slammed the door shut and then backed away from him. He seemed surprised at something and put the small white case he had on the ground to put his hands up defensively.

"What do you think you're going to do with that stick there?" he asked, and I looked down to see that my right hand was still furiously clenched around my wand. Westley smiled and took a step forward so I pointed my wand at him and clenched my jaw. "Seriously, what are you going to do? Poke me in the eye?"

I felt my body relax and my right arm fell to my side. He was right. I couldn't break the Statute of Secrecy. And it didn't seem as if this Westley would attack me. The white case he had brought had the red cross on it; he obviously was trying to help. I sat down on one of the bags of soil again and just barely flinched when Westley picked up the white case and came closer.

He kneeled down in front of me, and opened the case, revealing bandages, antiseptic wipes, and things I would never have thought would have been in a first aid kit, such as a chocolate bar and a small tin labeled 'Fudge.' Westley took an antiseptic wipe and looked back up to me, slowly bringing his hands up to cup my face. I flinched as his fingers brushed the part of my cheek and jaw that was bruised and he froze.

"I just need to clean the blood off of the wound," he said quietly.

I nodded stiffly and kept my eyes trained on his as he dabbed at the cut. It stung something fierce but I kept my gaze on his eyes. They were surprisingly ice blue and when he finally looked down and our gazes caught, I looked down at the ground, embarrassed that I was staring. When I looked back up he was still looking at me and I noticed two dark circles around his eyes.

"Where's the third?" I asked quietly, and a flash of confusion passed over his face. "He promised he would give you three black eyes. Where's the third?"

Westley chuckled and went back to cleaning the cut on my forehead. "I'm going to assume that he's going to give me the third next time." I winced as his fingertips brushed against the bruise around the cut and he suddenly stopped. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be gentler," he said, refocusing on the cut on my head.

I reached up and grabbed his wrist. He looked at me in confusion and raised an eyebrow.

"Thank you," I murmured. "Thank you."

He nodded. "What's your name?"

"Mariel – Mary," I stammered. I mentally kicked myself. The entire point of my escape from the castle was to not be recognized and be free, and I almost revealed my name. "Mary, uh… Ella. But you can call me Mary."

He smiled and cupped my face in his hands, looking straight into my eyes, sky blue versus ice blue. "Well, Mary, I'm Westley. But you can call me West. And you can get through this, Mary."

I nodded and gave him a small smile of my own. The shed suddenly felt like my haven again, instead of just a hiding spot from my attacker. Surrounded by the earthy smell of the soil around me, the gardening tools that I had never touched, the wooden planks of the walls and the floor, I felt free and safe.

Staring into the ice blue of West's eyes, I realized that while I couldn't overpower my attacker physically, I was still one of the most important people in this castle.

"I will," I told West, setting my jaw. "I will."

************************************

"Chancellor Evans!" I cried, my small heels clicking against the linoleum. "Chancellor Evans, it's of utmost importance!"

Chancellor Evans rounded the corner, livid as I'd ever seen her. "Marielle Evans! What is the meaning of – oh! Your Highness, what happened?"

I had seen my face in the mirror and knew I looked a fright.

Bruises had bloomed on the right side of my jaw, the left side of the forehead, and my right cheek – the last of which was in the pattern of a ring. West had done something magical to the cut on my forehead and it was still an angry red, but the blood had coagulated quickly, and I had changed into proper attire.

Chancellor Evans hesitated first but quickly ran to me, grasping my face – and making me wince in the process – and searching my face.

"Who did this to you? Tell me, Marielle. Tell me!" she cried, her hands flying up and down my arms, her fingertips fluttering around the bruises.

I pushed her away from me and clenched my jaw. "Your Captain Gregson seems to fancy teenaged girls, Chancellor Evans. I'm not the first, and if we don't see him punished, I certainly won't be the last."

She let out a small squeak and her hands flew to her throat. "Marielle, darling… Did he… Did he…?"

"No," I said harshly, gritting my teeth. "Thankfully I was saved, but by whom I do not know. But as for Captain Gregson, I expect him to be locked away tonight, and you shall call to order the rest of the Elite Royal Guards. Question them and put those who had knowledge of his wrongdoings behind bars as well."

I felt a sour taste in my mouth as I thought of all the girls that West had already saved, and the dozens more that he hadn't been able to. "And for those who have fallen victim to him, I want them to come forward and testify. All those who come forward, whether they would like to be witness in a court of law or not, shall be given recompense for their sufferings, and a position in my own rooms if they like, as well as lodging in the guest section of the castle.

"It is insufferable that such an act was practiced in the corridors of this castle by a member of the Elite Royal Guard, and I shall do everything that I can to right this terrible wrong." I took a deep breath through my nose and smiled sweetly at Chancellor Evans, who looked as though she was going to cry. "Do not worry, Chancellor," I said, smoothing out the full skirts of my lavish dress, "Captain Gregson will be brought to justice. I swear it on everything that I am as Queen of Avalyn."

-

A.N.: Sorry about the wait. I asked a validator to check out the graphic scene, and while they said it was toeing the line, yet still acceptable, I guess it really wasn't. Oops! Oh well, I'm going take the blame here! Anyways, what did you think? Marielle as *Queen* of Avalyn? Let me know!


End file.
